Chronicles of Amaranth
by MarraJade
Summary: Growing up, they were told that Harry Potter wasn't real, but in 2006, an undeniable discovery sends the Cheung sisters to Amaranth Charter Academy for Magic! Between the Deathly Hallows and the Cursed Child, meet the middle generation of American wizardry: a new campus, new houses, and new characters! A story about identity, bullying, autism, and sisterhood. *Reviews, please!*
1. Chapter 1 - The Letter

BOOK ONE

I still remember when the Hogwarts letter came. I say "the" Hogwarts letter, because it wasn't mine. It was my sister's. It was summer, mid-June, maybe five days before her 11th birthday. She and I had been left at home while my parents went out to dinner. While this may seem unusual for most 8 and 10-year-olds, all I can say on the matter is that we were very unusual, independent and disciplined kids. My parents knew, as long as they left us with pizza, we would not burn the house down while they were gone. More likely, we would be in front of the TV all night and be asleep on the couch when they got home. It was not worth it for them to hire a babysitter. Besides, we had nosy Mrs. Jenkins next door, who would peek her head in if she heard so much as a squeal of delight.

So we were quiet, but I cannot say we were perfect kids. In fact, the moment our parents stepped out, my sister had changed the channel from my favorite cartoon to a horror movie I doubt we'd be allowed to watch. But she was the oldest, so she was in charge. She made the rules. And for some strange reason in my childish brain, I opted to stay and watch with her instead of retiring to my room for the night. She watched the screen, utterly intrigued, as I peeked out from behind a pillow. Above the slamming doors and terrified shrieks, it's amazing we heard a knock on the door at all.

The movie we had been watching was about a killer who attacked when people answered the door, so I begged my sister not to answer it. My parents should not have been home for another hour, and they had a house key, so they wouldn't have knocked. My sister assured me it was probably Mrs. Jenkins, who probably heard a scream from our television and thought it was one of us. I repeated what my parents often said, which was that we didn't have to answer the door for her - our lives were none of Mrs. Jenkins business. But my sister had a sharp tongue and a quick wit, even as a child, and opened the door to give her a piece of her mind.

There was no one there. Perhaps we had argued too long and whoever was at the door had given up and left. Maybe the knock on the door had been on TV, or maybe we'd imagined it entirely. My sister was about to close the door when she spotted something on the welcome mat. A single envelope in plain view - not even tucked under a corner, how we were taught to leave something if no one was home to answer the door. My sister snatched it up immediately. It was, after all, going to be her birthday soon. Perhaps this was a birthday card, hopefully with money.

Our parents wouldn't have wanted her to open the card until the day of her actual birthday, and also why would a post man be delivering letters in the middle of the night? As my sister took a closer look, her eyes widened. I caught a quick glance at the curved calligraphy before she danced across the living room, shouting, "I knew it! I knew it!"

"Shh!" I scolded her, gesturing frantically in the directions of Mrs. Jenkins house. My sister calmed a little as she tore the seal from the envelope and pulled the letter from within. Her eyes scanned over the page faster than I could get to her, and the next thing I knew, she had locked herself in her room. I knocked on her door several times. "Taylor? What is it? Who is it from? What did it say?" She never answered me. Quickly, my child brain gave up, and I retreated to the couch, happy to change the channel back to cartoons.

When my parents got home that night, they were shocked to see me still up - and alone. Not wanting my sister to get in trouble for leaving me unattended (in fact, they should leave me unattended more often!) I explained to them that she had gotten a mysterious letter and locked herself in her room. My parents exchanged a look. I'd never seen them so worried, I knew something was going on, but they sent me to bed anyways. I could hear them knocking on Taylor's door, asking if they could be let in, and finally using the spare key when she wouldn't answer them.

Later, I learned what had happened that night. Taylor had gotten a rejection letter. "Although your records are in the Hogwarts database, we cannot offer you admission at this time." My parents dismissed it as a cruel prank. Everyone knew about Taylor's obsession with Harry Potter. She had been fascinated since she had been gifted the first three books on her 8th birthday. In retrospect, it was funny how our parents had tried to keep us from the series. When the books first came out, we were told "the church didn't recommend it because it was about witchcraft." We had moved to a small town with one family-owned bookshop and no movie theater. Even when a movie theater was built, they did not take us to see the movie (although they couldn't stop us from seeing it with friends, using our own money).

But they couldn't stop Taylor from reading the books when they were given to her as a gift. In fact, she abandoned her own birthday party to start reading them. Of course my parents made her stop and return to the party, but by the time they caught her, the damage was already done. She had already read the first two chapters and was hooked. They couldn't return or exchange the gift, and they weren't about to make a scene in front of the other kids and parents. They could, however, keep me from reading the books. I was "too young." The content was "too scary." I believed them and I followed their rules. I never read the books. But my sister read them all, multiple times. She read the third book so many times, the spine broke.

And she told me all about the wonderful things she had learned. Soon, I knew so much, I could hold a conversation with other fans, even though I had no idea what I was talking about. I had opinions of characters without knowing who they were. I had opinions of events without knowing their significance. I even had a favorite character and a Hogwarts house (my sister assigned to me, saying, "You would like her. You would fit in there.") And I kept her opinions until seeing the movie myself. And after seeing the movie, I agreed with her opinions even more. I still never read the books, and I wasn't as passionate about Harry Potter as, say, Geronimo Stilton. I guess you could call me a fan by proxy. And throughout all this, my parents insisted it wasn't real.

Harry Potter was a story. A work of fiction. A child's novel. And that's why Taylor's rejection letter didn't matter. Even if it were an acceptance letter, it would have been fake. It was all just make believe.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Green Lady

Two years later, my sister had all but forgotten the incident with her "fake" Hogwarts letter. I hadn't. My birthday was coming up in a couple months and I was half-expecting, somewhat hoping to get a Hogwarts letter of my own. I hoped it would be an acceptance letter, though. How funny, I thought, would it be, if I - the "stupid Muggle" (as my sister and her fellow fan friends liked to call me) - got accepted to Hogwarts, while my sister - the insufferable know-it-all - did not? My Hogwarts letter never had the chance to come.

I remember that day as well. It was hot. The sun was just starting to set, and I was grumpy because my mother was helping Taylor plan her birthday party instead of making dinner. I had told her that I was hungry. I even offered to get things started, but my mother was too busy to hear my whinging, let alone respond. She did hear, however, when there was a knock on the door. And she sent me to get it.

I opened the door to a tall woman in a green dress suit. She looked down at me through her spectacles. "Is your mother home? May I come in?" Even at that age, I was not comfortable with talking to strangers. But my mother _was_ home and the lady looked important so I mumbled something and stepped aside. The woman came in and, observing all our shoes on a rack near the door, removed hers. I scurried back to the kitchen table where my mother glanced up, distractedly.

"Who was it?" she asked, confusing the invite list for the seating chart.

"A green lady," I stuttered anxiously. I couldn't believe I'd just let a stranger into our house.

"A green lady?" my sister scoffed. "Like Elphaba?"

"A lady wearing green," I quickly corrected myself, then looked back at my mom. "She wanted to speak with you." My mother looked confused for a moment, but rose and left the room. My sister and I quickly followed and watched from the doorway.

"Hello? May I help you?" she called.

The green lady had taken a seat on our couch but rose to shake my mother's hand. "Mrs. Cheung?" she smiled. My mother nodded. "And Tai Lau?" Bravely, my sister stepped forward.

"What's going on?" my mother asked, cautiously. I wondered if my sister was in trouble. My mother only used her Chinese name when she was in trouble, and to hear a stranger say it - a Caucasian stranger - was unusual, to say the least.

"Why don't you both sit down?" the lady offered. My mother and sister obliged, sitting in the armchair and on the floor. "I'm here because two years ago, you got a letter."

My mother and sister exchanged a look. _How can we be expected to remember a letter from a year ago?_ But I knew exactly the one. "I'm sorry?" my mother replied, shaking her head in confusion.

The green lady pulled a file from inside her jacket and began to shuffle through the papers. "I know you haven't been active in the community for a while, so I'll try to catch you up… After the Second War, we had a good four- almost five years of peace until a study by the Ministry found that students of No-Majes and students raised by No-Majes lacked a 'natural talent' found in those with pureblood. Of course there was much debate in the International Confederation: there are obvious exceptions to the rule, and greatness can still be achieved through hard work. But it came into question, whether the two should be schooled together, or if there should be a separate track for 'slow learners.' In the meantime, those in question were educationally stagnant until finally a project funded by the Potter Administration was approved, creating corresponding Charter Academies for the Big Eleven.

"Which brings us to where we are today. It has come to our attention that Tai Lau has not yet received a formal education - typically she would've been accepted to Ilvermorny, but since her ancestry records are from the U.K., she was unfortunately overlooked. I've never thought Ilvermorny needed a Charter Academy since we've been so accepting of No-Majes since the beginning, but since it is a government-run institution, the International Confederation's rules apply to us. They're starting to talk about not following them anyways. You know how it is with Americans; we break away from oppressive rules, hm? But I digress. Tai Lau is hereby formally invited to attend Amaranth Academy. Do you have any questions?"

My mom and sister stared at the woman, stunned.

"Excuse me?"

"What?"

The woman stared back at them, equally confused as to which part they didn't understand. "Tai Lau wasn't approved to go to Hogwarts, so we're offering her admission to Amaranth Charter Academy for Magic." From where I stood, in the doorway to the kitchen, I could see my sister's look of disgust and my mother's look of horror.

"Is this some kind of joke?" my sister demanded, annoyed. She turned to my mother. "Is this another birthday prank? Did you hire her?"

"This is not a joke," the green lady insisted, somewhat offended. "I'm sorry I failed to introduce myself. I'm Isadora Stewart, former Deputy Headmistress of Ilvermorny and currently Dean of Admissions for Amaranth Charter Academy for Magic!"


	3. Chapter 3 - Discovery

It was at that moment, the door swung open and my dad stepped in, wiping his shoes on the mat. "Hi, girls! I'm home!" he called, expecting us to come running from the kitchen. Instead, he looked up at the awkward scene. "What's going on here?" he asked, cautiously putting away his jacket and briefcase.

"It's happened," my mother spoke, her voice trembling. "They've come to take them away."

"Your daughter has been accepted to the Charter Academy that's opening this September," Dr. Stewart explained. "I know it's no Hogwarts or Ilvermorny, but it's the only option she has at this point. They're not accepting No-Maj born or raised at any of the Eleven Schools. But I assure you, Tai Lau's magical education will still be good! The Charter Academy in China has been flourishing for over a thousand years and-"

"I'm sorry," my father interrupted, his face stern. "We're not concerned with the statistics of public versus private schooling. We're just a little… disturbed, because…" He sighed. "The girls didn't know they were witches."

My sister practically leapt to her feet to protest. " _I_ knew! _I_ knew it!" she began shouting. "I knew it since I got that stupid Hogwarts letter! You told me it was fake!"

There was a knock on the door. "Is everything alright in there?" an old woman's voice called.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Jenkins!" my mother called back and turned violently to glare at my sister, who quickly shut up.

"Well," Dr. Stewart clicked her tongue awkwardly. "It sounds like you three have a lot to discuss. I'll be back to take you school shopping next week and you can always reach me by owl if you have any further questions. Goodnight." She rose from the couch and slinked to the doorway, past my father, and almost opened the door before she realized her shoes weren't on.

"Excuse me," I suddenly piped up before I even knew what I was saying. Dr. Stewart looked over her shoulder at me and seemed genuinely surprised. It was as if she had forgotten that I was the one who answered the door for her. "What about me?" I asked, heart pounding.

Dr. Stewart turned to face me. "And who are you?" she asked, politely.

"No!" my mother cried, jumping to her feet. "You can't have her too! She's too young!"

There was another knock on the door. "Is everything okay in there?"

In a state I'd rarely seen him in before, my father threw open the door. "Ashley Marie Jenkins, do GO AWAY," he snapped, slamming the door before she could respond.

"I'll be eleven in August," I stuttered.

"As long as it's before September, she makes the cut-off date," Dr. Stewart told my mom. Her lips quivered and silent tears began to fall down her cheeks. "But you still haven't told me, who are you?"

"I'm Ju-" I hesitated. "Jia Li Cheung." I gave her my Chinese name. Since she had used my sister's, I was hoping that would make more sense to her.

Dr. Stewart's face suddenly lit up and she began tearing through the papers in her file. "You wouldn't happen to be Jia Li Tam, would you?" She offered me a picture of four girls, smiling and laughing. Not one of them was me. I didn't know who they were.

"She is," my father said, defeated.

Dr. Stewart threw her shoes on, urgently. "I have some paperwork to fill out," she said. "I'll be back for you next week as well!" And with a final, awkward "goodnight," she was gone, leaving my family to pick up the pieces of our shattered sense of reality.


	4. Chapter 4 - Flowers and Suns

Mother and father had gone for takeout since mother was in no state to cook dinner. My sister and I sat on the couch, much like that fateful night when Taylor's Hogwarts letter arrived. For a while, we sat in silence, processing what had just happened. I could only try to imagine the conversation my parents were having in the car right now. Mother might be crying, maybe yelling, I didn't know exactly why. Maybe it was because we were growing up so quickly. Or maybe it was that she was so fiercely protective of us, and the growing certainty of boarding school was a little too much. Or maybe it was the important secret she had tried to keep from us our whole lives had just come out: not only was the story of Harry Potter real, Taylor and I were a part of it. We were from that world.

After a while of my thoughts wandering in the silence, I finally spoke. "Are you mad at me?" I asked, looking at my feet.

Taylor turned to me, her expression half perplexed and half suspicious of what I could have done to make her mad. "For what?" she asked, cautiously.

"I don't know." I shrugged. "That I'm a witch, too?"

Taylor looked even more confused and slightly annoyed. "Why would I be mad about that?"

I shook my head, not daring to look up at her. "I don't know." I swung my legs. "You always call me a 'stupid Muggle.'"

Taylor scoffed, glancing towards the ceiling. "Are you saying I can't call you that anymore?" Again, I shrugged, but Taylor's expression shifted to a smile. "No," she said. "I'm glad you're a witch."

I looked at her, genuinely surprised. "Really?"

"If I had magic and you didn't, it would cause a rift in our relationship. You'd've been left out. You would've gotten jealous. I know you would."

I looked away and nodded. That was probably true.

"If you had magic and I didn't, I'd probably be jealous too," Taylor continued. "I'd get over it, eventually. It would've made more sense..."

My eyebrows furrowed. "How would that have made more sense? You're the one who read all the books…"

"Yeah," Taylor shrugged. "But you're… different." I knew what she was talking about. Taylor made her way in the world so easily. I was always lost. Taylor had friends. I didn't know how to keep them. I acted weird. I said stupid things. People picked on me a lot, and I couldn't understand why. But I didn't think my awkward personality and odd mannerisms had anything to do with being a witch. I was pretty sure witches and wizards didn't act like me.

"Do you think it'll be hard?" I mumbled. "At Hogwarts?"

"We're not going to Hogwarts," Taylor reminded me, impatiently. "But yeah, it might be a little hard for you. You're really going in blind, since you haven't read the books, but it's okay. You study hard anyways. You'll still probably do better than me."

I always had better grades than Taylor. Without friends, I really dove into my work. Taylor spent more time socializing than studying. But studying wasn't really what I was concerned about. I wondered if I would have any friends. Bullying at school was bad enough already. I didn't want to imagine what it would be like with magic involved.

"What if nobody likes me?"

Taylor scoffed at the notion. "People will like you," she assured me. "You're gonna get there and they'll all be just as weird as you. _I'm_ gonna have a hard time fitting in."

I giggled, trying to imagine my sister having a hard time making friends. No, it wouldn't be that no one wanted to be friends with her; I doubted _Taylor_ would want to be friends with anyone. She really seemed to hate "weird" people, which is why she never liked being associated with me. What few friends I did make, Taylor would assess them, deem them "weird," and insist I no longer be friends with them. She didn't want weirdness anywhere near her, it seemed. Her fascination with Harry Potter was the only exception to this, but liking Harry Potter, despite being relatively nerdy, was okay for her because it was quite popular and widely accepted as "cool."

"And hey," Taylor continued, "if anyone gives you trouble, you just tell me. I'll hex them for you, I don't even care. We're not going to be the next Lily and Petunia. I don't want you abusing my son if I die. We're in this together, okay? I look out for you, you do my homework sometime, right?"

I laughed and nodded. I knew she was kidding about the homework part. I didn't really understand what flowers and suns had to do with it. I dismissed it as something from the books that I wouldn't understand until I read them. The important thing was that the Cheung sisters were united against the uncertainty that was American Hogwarts. With my all-knowing sister by my side, I knew I could get through this.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Cavaliers

My parents brought home Chinese takeout. We sat in the dining room, awkwardly, eating our dinner in silence. My parents said nothing about the shoebox on the table we heard them scrambling around to find as soon as they got home. Finally, my sister planted her chopsticks so they were sticking straight up in her rice. My mother turned to her, furious, as doing this is bad manners (it looks like incense at a shrine), but my sister didn't seem to notice.

"Don't you guys have anything to say to us?" she yelled, impatiently.

I quietly kept eating my food. My parents exchanged a look and sighed. Mom eyed the shoebox wistfully. "Take a break, Julie," she said, without looking at me. I swallowed a bite of noodles and put my chopsticks down. My mother sighed again. "You two both know you're adopted…"

"Yes," my sister snapped. "And?"

"You know we used to live in Europe."

 _"And?"_

Mother exhaled and clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "Just let me figure out where to start!" she sighed at my sister.

"Your mother and I went to Hogwarts," my dad spoke, finally. "We were Head Boy and Girl. Hufflepuff and Slytherin."

"You were Head Boy?" my sister spat. I didn't know what that meant. But my dad had always been somewhat of a jokester. It was hard to picture him as Head of anything, except maybe a poker club. "Did you know Harry Potter?"

"We graduated the first year he came," my dad nodded.

"We hated him," my mother added, miserably.

"I didn't," my father interjected. "Never met the guy."

"Well, the Slytherins hated him."

"Because of Draco?" my sister chirped. I wasn't following any of this.

"Draco was annoying, too!" my mother rolled her eyes. "No, we hated him because he stole our victory! He ruined our win streak! Slytherin had won the House Cup every year until Potter arrived. I'd worked hard, scoring us points. I was top of my class, highest grades in all of my classes! Then Potter comes along and wins the House Cup by just existing… Without him, my house would've won the House Cup all seven years I was there!"

"It's just a trophy, dear, it doesn't mean much," my father assured her.

"I know," my mother exhaled through her nose. "It was just unfair. You should have seen it; the Great Hall was decorated in Slytherin greens... We were so excited! I was so proud! Then Harry and his friends broke all the rules, and instead of getting expelled, they were awarded points - after everything was tallied and the winner had already been chosen…"

My sister was laughing at this story, and I still didn't understand. I vaguely remembered something from the movie, but that was five years ago, and I cared more about Finding Nemo than it. My mother was still ranting when I asked my question. I wasn't trying to be rude. I had just spaced out and didn't realize she wasn't done talking. "Where do we come in?"

My mother stopped talking and sighed. She was used to me interrupting like this. Solemnly, she reached for the shoebox and put it in her lap. Removing the lid and placing it on the table, she began shuffling with the contents inside. I tried to peek over, curiously. I thought an animal might be inside, but from the rustling sound, I knew it was only papers. "There were nine of us," she began. "We were all different years, different houses, but we all hung out together. Everyone knew us 'cause we were all Asian - the only Asians in the school."

"What about Cho Chang?" my sister piped up. "If everyone knew you, why weren't you in the books?"

"Cho Chang was a sniveling social climber," my mother scoffed. "And just because you didn't read about it doesn't mean we didn't exist. Your favorite 'historian' chose what she wanted to include and we 'didn't matter.' So now our only representation was that wailing twit who abandoned the group for a chance at fame."

From the box, my mother produced a picture and passed it to me. Six girls and three boys of varying heights posed for the camera, all with their hands signaling "two." Some of them were giving each other bunny ears. Others' hands were near their faces. I immediately recognized my mother and father. My dad had thicker hair and they had different glasses, but it was unmistakably them. The picture was torn on the middle-left and taped back together. A bit of hair and a leg could still be seen. I figured this was where whoever Cho Chang was once stood and was removed from the group after her betrayal.

My sister snatched the photo from my hands. I stared at her, blankly, as she scanned the photo with her eyes and began "flapping" it under the light. "It doesn't move," she lamented.

"It stopped moving when we tore it," my mother explained, taking back the picture. "We used Spello-tape and tried to re-enchant it, but nothing worked." She put it on the table for both of us to see. "These four girls," she pointed, "were a little sub-group. They called themselves the Cavaliers."

"The Cavaliers?" my sister repeated. "Why 'the Cavaliers?'"

My mother sighed, laughing slightly. "She just liked the way it sounds." Mother pointed down the line. "That's Amy, Shirley, Megan, and Kristen. They always wore something pink." Looking closer at the picture, I could see Amy's ribbon necklace, Shirley's glasses, Megan's bracelet, and a pink ribbon in Kristen's hair. "We all hung out, but _they_ were _always_ together. They were best friends." My mother pointed again. "Kristen and Shirley were first years, with Potter. Megan was the oldest, but Amy was the leader." Mother kept her fingers on Megan and Amy. "They were your mothers." Then she pointed to Kristen. "She was my sister."

Taylor leaned to take a closer look at the picture. "My mother was in Slytherin? What was she like?" She continued to ask questions; I didn't know how. I was still in shock. I'd never really questioned who my biological mother was, but I didn't expect her to be so… close. In my mind, Carina was my mom. She always had been. Now there was this "Amy," who I didn't even know.

"Megan got pregnant with you at fifteen," mother was telling Taylor when I tuned back in. "It was a scandal. Most students don't make it that far…"

"Magical abortions?" my sister said immediately.

"No!" my mother said quickly, mortified. "Just finding a place alone without getting caught!" Mother fanned herself with a random paper, shaking off her disgust. "But, yes, teen pregnancies are beyond unusual since… these things can be dealt with quickly and painlessly… In the wizarding community, there's no stigma around it, no expensive, invasive medical procedures…" Mother took a quick sip of water. "Shirley was Hufflepuff, Muggle-born. She convinced your mothers to keep you. Megan would never back down from a challenge." Mother turned to me. "And two years later, when Amy had you, she wasn't afraid. Megan talked her through it. She saw you as her greatest masterpiece." I stared at the picture of the girl in blue. I was her greatest masterpiece. "Both of them worked something out with McGonagall, to have you and come back to finish school, even though they'd be older."

"They weren't in trouble, for getting pregnant?" my sister inquired.

"No, but they increased patrols and security after that," my dad exhaled. "Those late-night shifts were miserable. I started skipping my first class each morning and sleeping through breakfast…"

"Kristen called me back during the Battle of Hogwarts," mother said quietly. The tone of the room suddenly shifted from cheerfully nostalgic to solemn and serious. My dad leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. My sister leaned in like we were watching one of her horror films. "The rest of us had graduated by then, but I went right to Hogsmeade when I got the call. Kristen was in Gryffindor with Potter. The Cavaliers all joined Dumbledore's Army. Except your mom, Taylor." Mother turned to face her. "When the fighting started, she thought of nothing but you. She went right to you, to keep you safe." Mother turned back to the table, addressing all of us. "Nobody but Kristen was happy to see me, when I arrived," mother grumbled. "To them, I was just another Slytherin. So I went and I found my house. They young students were crying. They were scared. They didn't know what to do. McGonagall gave them a choice: leave and live or stay and fight. Some of them had parents on the other side. They were so ashamed. They said they'd follow whatever I was going to do. I was Head Girl. They looked up to me. Suddenly, I became responsible for all these kids. I wasn't thinking of Kristen anymore. There were maybe a hundred kids who trusted me with their lives. I brought them to safety through the tunnel to Hogsmeade. And when I tried to go back, the tunnel had been sealed off."

"Kristen, Amy, and Shirley died that day," my mother grimaced, tears streaming down her face. "They died fighting for Potter. They died and I wasn't there to protect them."

My father rose from his seat and wrapped his arms around her. "Can you two give us a minute alone?"

As I started to stand up, Taylor grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me to her room, closing the door behind us. "Can you believe this?" she whispered fiercely. "Our parents were in the Battle of Hogwarts!"

"I… don't really know what that means…"

"Our parents died in the war."

"Our mothers," I mumbled. "Mom hasn't said anything about our fathers so far…"

"She's not our mom," Taylor hissed, now apparently livid. "Our real mothers died-…"

"It's not mom's fault," I mumbled, quietly. I typically didn't like to argue with Taylor. My mind didn't work as fast. She always won and she was usually right. But I had to defend the only mom I'd ever known, even if she did lie to me. It was hard for me to understand Taylor's emotions. I tried to empathize; I tried to imagine finding out I was actually a mouse and subsequently missed out on all of Geronimo Stilton's adventures, but it wasn't exactly the same. I would be disappointed that I didn't get to go to the rainforest or escape from pirates, but I think I would've noticed if I were a mouse. "She feels bad she couldn't save them, but she saved all those other kids…"

"I don't blame her that our mothers died," Taylor grumbled, leaning against her door. "She took us away from Hogwarts. She told us none of it was real. She-…"

There was a knock on the door and dad peeked inside. "You guys can come back now," he said with a light smile. Taylor and I returned to the kitchen table. I gazed longingly at my chow mein. My stomach gurgled. I put my hand on the table and tried to slowly, subtly reach for my chopsticks. Taylor had her arms crossed in a pout.

"So how did we end up with you?" she asked, impatiently.

Mother's eyes were still damp and her glasses were on the table. She laid her hand on mine, disrupting my thoughts of hunger. "When you were born, Julie, your grandparents – my parents – went with Kristen to visit Amy. Amy's parents were Muggles, and they were worried about raising a magical child. I never understood why. Amy was a witch, so they'd done it once before. But anyways, my parents said they'd help out if they ever needed it... Julie, please look at me. It lets me know you're listening." I trained my eyes from my dinner plate to my mother. "After the Battle, Amy's parents sent you to live with us. They surrendered you to us, out of love. I want you to know they gave you up because they loved you. They were dealing with their own grief and knew they couldn't take care of you. They said deciding to give you up was the hardest thing they ever had to do. Do you understand?" Tears were beginning to slip out of my mother's eyes again.

I nodded and immediately looked away. Intellectually, I understood. But I didn't know how to feel about it. "My parents were so angry… so angry I left Kristen behind, they sent me away with you. I was 23, and somehow neglecting my sister meant inheriting the promise she made to her friend." Mother paused to wipe her eyes and let go of my hand in favor of my dad's. "Your father and I fled back to the States. We're from here. We're American. We were only in Europe because your grandfather worked at the MACUSA Embassy at the Ministry."

"Why were _you_ there?" my sister asked my dad.

"In Europe?" my dad laughed. "Transfer program. Hogwarts is supposed to be the best wizarding school of the Eleven. Your grandmother worked day and night to make sure I got the best education possible, so I could support the family…"

I thought about my grandparents. On my father's side, both my grandparents were dead. They were dead before I could meet them, but I imagined they were both Muggles. Dad never talked about anything that might indicate otherwise. He said grandma worked in a tomato factory. Then again, he had spent my entire life keeping magic a secret from me… Still, I could only imagine grandma as a little Chinese woman, a single mother, sorting the good tomatoes from the bad tomatoes on the factory line.

Mom's parents, however, were both still alive. They were stern and secretive, and suddenly it all made sense: they were wizards – or a witch and a wizard, I guess, but they were in on it the whole time! They knew that Taylor and I weren't supposed to know about magic. And mom's story explained their strained relationship. That's why we only saw them on holidays. That's why their doors were always locked and we weren't allowed to go into their secret rooms. I'd bet anything there were magic things in there! Come to think of it, that's why some pictures of a young girl around their house didn't look like mom! It wasn't her, it was her dead sister!

"Your grandparents were even angrier when we fled," mother continued. "After the war, the Ministry started rounding up all the pureblood families. They said it was to protect them from radicals who might hurt them because of their blood status – they might assume we were Death Eaters or other supporters of Voldemort's regime…"

"You said His name!" Taylor gasped.

Mother rolled her eyes. "It's been almost ten years, Taylor," she sighed. "And most purebloods weren't afraid of using his name, only Muggle-borns and half-bloods." She shifted in her seat and continued. While she was distracted, I snuck a bite of noodles. "Anyways, so the Ministry said they were detaining purebloods 'for their own safety,'" mother continued. "But really they just wanted their homes empty so they could search for proof of them being Death Eaters. Everyone went under lengthy interrogations in the meantime. Known and discovered Death Eaters were put on trial and sent to Azkaban. Mom and dad thought they'd be safe since they worked for the government and were American citizens, but they were rounded up too. Nobody could be trusted since Voldemort's supporters had infiltrated the Ministry as well.

"Their house was ransacked and vandalized while they were gone. Nothing was found to even remotely suggest they were Death Eaters, but they didn't even get an apology. Just 'you're free to go.' So they went home to nothing. Everything was destroyed, by search teams, robbers, radicals, who knows? They lost everything, so they came back to America as well. They didn't have a home here, either, but they didn't get in contact with me until they'd worked their way back from the ground, up. They were angry I didn't try to help them. I'd _tried_ to reach out to them, and when they never answered me, I just assumed they were still mad about Kristen, so I left them alone. I didn't even know this was going on until they told me. I think they understand, now, but they're still bitter about having to go through it in the first place…"

"Of course they are," Taylor exclaimed. "I would be, too! They did nothing wrong! Where's the justice?"

"I'm just telling you how it happened," mother sighed. "So while this inquisition was happening, a lot of pureblood families went into hiding. When they went looking for your family, Taylor, all they found was you." Taylor's anger faded as her interest grew. "As the story goes, the search team burst into the apartment your family had been hiding and found you asleep in your bed. You didn't even wake up when they came in. Your mother and her parents were gone. They never found them, but they left a note." Mother pulled a piece of paper from the shoebox and handed it to Taylor, who read it aloud.

"Her name is Tai Lau, born June 19th, 1993. Don't bother questioning her. She has been Obliviated. Send her to live with the Tanakas. I was not a good sister to Kristen, but she should be with hers. Megan."

"This is just a copy," mom explained. "The real one is in 'evidence.' You were sent to your grandparents, who passed you on to me. Like Megan said, you should be with your sister."

"But she's not my sister!" Taylor protested. Suddenly, I was very offended and didn't understand why.

"The Cavaliers were like family," mother shot back, equally upset. "They called each other 'sister,' and they said their daughters would be sisters too. We were one big family. We raised you together. They always intended for you two to be together!"

"So I was Obliviated?" Taylor spat, fuming. "What, they were afraid a five-year-old would reveal where they went? You said that not remembering your childhood was normal!"

"I don't remember my childhood. Was I Obliviated too?" I asked, alarmed.

"It _is_ normal! And no, sweetie, you weren't Obliviated too," my dad spoke up. "Your mother and I got moved, got married, became your guardians, and signed your adoption papers in a matter of months. There was no awkward adjustment period. You opened your eyes and saw us as your parents. Everything fell into place so naturally, like it was meant to be."

"It wasn't natural at all!" Taylor continued to argue. "This isn't natural! We're living in a hippie commune, pretending not to be wizards! You kept that from us! You lied to us! You lied to us for years!" I started breathing funny.

"We made sure you knew you were adopted," my father began, but my mother interrupted him.

"We lied to keep you safe!" she shouted. She was crying again. My stomach chose this exact time to grumble loudly, but everyone ignored it. "The Wizarding War was a disaster! People _died!_ _Your mothers_ died! My _sister_ died! The government was infiltrated! Nowhere was safe anymore! We had to get away from it all! MACUSA was so used to refugees, when we said we wanted to go back to the Muggle world, they didn't even question it! They got us set up with Muggle jobs and backstories… My degree from UC Berkeley is a lie! I've been lying for 13 years! Lying to Muggle friends, lying to _myself_ , to protect you!" My father was trying to calm her down, but mother turned on him.

"She's right!" she gestured to Taylor. "None of this was natural! We had to adjust to life without magic! We had to raise them with no help! We moved here, to a place isolated from the outside world, to hide from the wizarding community, so they couldn't sweep up the girls and bring them to a school of death!" Mother turned back to Taylor. "I'm sorry, but I was relieved when you weren't accepted to Hogwarts. Even if you got accepted, I wasn't about to send you back to that place!" She turned to my father. "How did they even find us? I told you we should have moved again when she got that letter. You said there was no paper trail to Julie, but they found her too!"

"They found her on accident," my father stammered. "They didn't know she was here until-…"

"Stop fighting!" I screamed. I didn't realize I was crying until dad grabbed a napkin and started wiping my eyes. I brushed him away, embarrassed that I had yelled. That wasn't like me. Everything had just gotten too loud. "I have to go to bed," I quietly excused myself from the table. I wasn't even hungry anymore. They let me go. Nobody even tried to stop me.

I didn't even brush my teeth or get into my pajamas. I just closed my bedroom door, without turning on the light, and climbed into bed. I couldn't even sleep, I just stared at the ceiling. In the kitchen, I could still hear the three of them arguing. Every now and then mom or dad would remind the other two to keep it down, since I had "gone to bed." I heard snippets of their conversation when they got too loud, but I didn't try to listen closer. I didn't know much about any of it, but mother's explanation of everything made sense to me, so I didn't feel the need to inquire further.

After a few hours, the conversation stopped and I could hear Taylor in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. Dad cracked open the door to see if I was asleep. I rolled over to look at him and he came in. "Hey, Jules, are you okay?" he whispered.

"Too loud," I murmured. I had a habit of reverting to childishness when I got upset. "Too much new stuff. My brain hurts."

"I'll get you an aspirin," he volunteered. "I'm sorry this all had to come out tonight. I know it's a lot, but we did it because we love you and wanted to keep you safe."

"I know." My fist tightened on my blankets.

"I'll go get you that aspirin."

A few minutes later, my mom peeked in. Seeing I was still awake, she sat on my head and stroked my hair. "Hey," she said, softly.

"Hey," I mumbled back.

"I'm sorry we got so loud. I know it can be too much for you." I nodded in response. "You know, even though I didn't give birth to you, I'm still your mother, and I love you so much."

"I know." Admittedly, I was a little annoyed. They kept trying to comfort me and remind me of something I already knew and accepted and was otherwise not concerned about. I considered them my "real" parents. I knew they loved me and they only lied to protect me. Besides sensory and information overload, I couldn't identify what I was so upset about.

"Do you have any questions for me?" mother asked. "Once she calmed down, your sister wanted to know all about her mother and Harry Potter and what Hogwarts was like…"

I shook my head. All of this was above me, and I guess I didn't really care. I'd had too much new information for one night anyways. "I'm just tired," I grumbled.

"Okay," my mother sighed, sweetly. "I'll let you go to bed. Goodnight. I love you." She rose and began to exit my room, but paused in the doorway and stared at me for a moment in silence. I stared back. She just smiled and closed the door.


	6. Chapter 6 - Logistics

Chapter Six – Logistics

I woke up to the smell of breakfast. Rolling over, I looked at the clock on my bedside table. I still hadn't quite mastered the art of reading analog clocks, but by sheer estimate, I saw it was close to noon. It was odd that no one had come to wake me up, but it was summer, so I didn't put much thought into it. Drowsy from oversleeping, I changed from yesterday's clothes into pajamas and headed out into the kitchen.

Dad was at the stove, in gym shorts and his favorite Tintin shirt. "Good morning, sweetie!" he called to me. "Help yourself!" He gestured with a spatula to the plates of eggs, sausage, toast, and tater tots laid out across the counter.

Mom was in a kimono bathrobe with her nightgown barely peeking out from under it, pouring two cups of coffee. "Good morning," she smiled.

Taylor was at the kitchen table in her pink floral pajamas, putting ketchup on her eggs while skimming through a Seventeen magazine. I took a seat across from her and stared blankly at the table. My mind was still in bed. "Go get something to eat," Taylor scoffed, flipping a page. Everything was so picturesquely normal, I was almost convinced last night had been a dream. After a moment of gathering the will to stand up from the table, I took a plate and served myself huge helpings of breakfast. "So do you still have your wands?" Taylor asked, suddenly, breaking the illusion.

I looked to mother, who seemed to hesitate with her answer, but finally said, "Yes, dear. They're in the safe."

"I know what you're thinking," dad added quickly. "And no, you can't play with them. They wouldn't work for you anyways. They're ours."

"At least show us some spells," Taylor whined.

"Oh dear," mother sighed. "It's been so long, I don't know if they'd even obey _us_ anymore. They get so temperamental when they're ignored. They probably feel abandoned." I tried to imagine a stick with feelings. I always tried to give my Beanie Babies equal attention in case they got jealous, but that was different. Beanie Babies looked like animals, which have feelings. Plants have feelings too, but it was hard to imagine a stick with feelings, as opposed to an entire tree.

"At least let us see them," Taylor insisted. "What do they look like? How long are they? What are they made out of? What are your cores?"

"I don't remember," my father admitted, thoughtfully. "Mine's brown, maybe thirteen inches? Yours is a lighter color, dear, and a bit shorter…"

"I want to say mine was unicorn tail and yours was dragon heartstring," my mother added back.

"No, dear, dragon heartstring was my first wand, that broke. The one I kept has a different one. You're thinking of the shorter, thicker one, with the ridges…"

I tuned out their banter, as I had no clue any of its significance. I'd forgotten how hungry I was before I lost my appetite last night. My plate was almost empty and I knew I was going to get seconds.

"I want mine to be Veela hair," Taylor declared.

"Oh, no, dear, not for your first wand," mother warned. "Maybe your second…"

"What about you, Julie?" Taylor called.

"Hm?" I looked up, my mouth full of tater tots. I swallowed. "I don't know. What do you think I should get?" I always put these things in Taylor's hands. She was the expert, and she always got things right. Taylor was just good at choosing things for me, in general. I was a predictable, simple girl. We liked to play a game where every time we would go to a restaurant, Taylor would predict what I was going to order. It was quite easy, since I ordered the same thing every time: fettucine alfredo at Italian restaurants; bean and cheese burritos at Mexican restaurants; tempura udon at Japanese restaurants; and so on.

"Phoenix feather for you, definitely," she stated without hesitation.

Mother clicked her tongue. "I doubt that…"

I shrugged. I didn't know the implications anyways.

"We sent an owl to Dr. Stewart last night," mother informed us, casually. "She's not coming back to take you school shopping next week. Your father and I have decided to take you back to London, instead."

Taylor practically threw her fork on the table. "What?"

"Does this mean we're going to Hogwarts now?" I asked, curiously.

"No, no, it's just for school shopping," mother insisted, calming us. "We wanted you to have that experience with us, not with some faculty member."

"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!" my sister was screaming. "We're gonna go to London!"

I was a little less enthused. "We're going to another country just to go shopping?" I hated shopping. I didn't understand the appeal of browsing through expensive clothes I couldn't afford or simply didn't need. I only ever went shopping when I was looking for something in particular, and even then I had mental checklists to determine if it was worth my money.

"Shopping for school supplies," my mother reminded me. I gave a resigned nod. Practical shopping was okay. It at least felt like I accomplished something.

"It's been a while since we've been in London," my father added, thoughtfully. "We'll visit all the old stomping grounds, meet up with old friends… my old boss even reached out to me; he wants to buy me a drink and catch up…"

"Your old boss from Yang's?"

"Mr. Yang himself!"

"He remembers you? How does he know-…?"

"Hand written letter came in with the paperwork this morning!" Dad gestured to a stack of papers on the table in front of us. Taylor gawked. My eyes widened. I'd thought it was a phone book. Taylor immediately snatched the stack and scanned through it.

"These are yours," she said, shoving a massive stack in my direction. I read carefully between bites of toast.

The first page was a note from Dr. Stewart saying she understood our family was going to use school shopping as an excuse to return to the U.K. and she thought that was a wonderful idea. Her cursive handwriting was a little bit hard to read, but she said something about reconnecting and difficulty. I identified the word "new." The last line was, "Send me an owl if you have further questions," and then a fancy signature and a stamp that looked like a shield with the letters "AA."

The next page was for school uniforms. "The Potter Administration has pledged to match every purchase so your student will have an additional set of clothes." A grid showed the names of different articles in varying lengths and colors. "We recommend you purchase one of each garment in every color, so your student can mix and match." That just seemed silly to me, but I'd never been to boarding school before. Perhaps we really needed that many clothes – at least five outfits per week, and no mention of how often they did laundry. Articles were permitted in four approved colors: black, white, grey, and Amaranth red.

On the grid, there was a black robe, a red robe, and a grey robe; full-sleeve cardigans in black, red, and grey; three-quarter-length cardigans in black, red, and grey; sweater vests in black, red, and grey; white button-up blouses with full-sleeves, three-quarter sleeves, short sleeves, and sleeveless; dress pants in black, red, and grey; pleated skirts in black, red, and grey; and then pleated skirts that were black and white plaid, black and grey plaid, black and red plaid, red and grey plaid, red and white plaid, grey and white plaid; these hideous shapeless rectangular dresses in all of the skirt patterns; and socks of each color at varying lengths of knee high, boot cut, and ankle cut.

And they wanted us to buy one of each? It was ridiculous! I couldn't imagine how much all of that would cost. At the bottom, several lines stated, "All skirts must be three inches above the knee or longer. Any shoes may be worn (in the approved colors) that are solid print with NO logos! Ties, scarves, hats, gloves, and badges will be distributed upon sorting. School uniforms MUST be worn to all class periods. Dress code violations will result in disciplinary action." After a couple lines of spacing, it continued, "Students are encouraged to express their individuality with 'street clothes' that can be worn on weekends, holidays, and/or after class. Please use your best judgement and refrain from any garments that may be offensive or otherwise inappropriate. Offenders will kindly be asked to change. Inappropriate garments will be confiscated and returned at the end of the school year."

The next page was "First Year Classes." According to the list, I would be taking an Introduction to Wandwork (SPE 100), Potions Components (PHC 100), History of Magic (HIS 100), Defense Against the Dark Arts (DADA 100), Flying (BRM 100), Astronomy (ASTRO 100), and Remedial Magic (CULT 100).

"Let me see," Taylor interrupted my reading, coming around to my side of the table. I saw that she had her class schedule as well. Her paper read "Third Year Fast Track," and included Remedial Wandwork III (SPE 310), Remedial Potions (PHC 310), Remedial History (310), Remedial Defense (DADA 310), Magi-Zoo-Bot (MZB 300), Divination (FUT 300), and Remedial Magic III (CULT 300). "What the heck!" Taylor exclaimed, frustrated. "Mom! What is up with these schedules?"

"What is it, dear?" mom asked, coming around to our side of the table.

"Where's Charms? Where's Transfiguration? I'm on the 'fast track,' but it's all remedial classes! What the heck is 'Cult 300?'"

Now dad's interest was piqued, and he came to look as well. Mom read both papers quickly. "It looks like Charms and Transfiguration are just one general spell class," she assessed.

"Whoa! You guys have got it easy!" dad laughed. "Seven classes each? Back in our day, we had nine or ten, plus electives!"

"You're in remedial classes because you'd be too behind in a class with third year transfers, and you wouldn't want to be put back with the first years, would you?" mom explained to Taylor without looking up. Taylor was pouting, angrily. "Dr. Stewart said all students had been placed on academic standby, so they probably have remedial classes going all the way up to the seventh years. You're on the fast track so next year you can be integrated with all of the fourth years. But you're going to have to study hard. You're essentially learning three years of information in one."

"Can't imagine being a remedial seventh year," my father shook his head.

"Remedial Magic is just a culture class," mother continued. "All the things you would have learned if you grew up in the wizarding world: folktales and lullabies, fashion and sports… Muggle-born and raised take Remedial Magic while wizard-raised take Muggle Studies, though I guess it's called No-Maj Studies here…"

"This isn't fair," Taylor glowered. "I wouldn't have to take all these remedial classes if you had just raised us like normal!" She got up from the table and stormed off to her room. Mother sighed. I could see the wheels turning in her head, debating if she should go after her.

"Hurry up and finish breakfast, then help your dad clean up and get ready for the day," mother instructed me before heading off towards Taylor's room. I finished my plate and helped myself to more breakfast. It was cold, but I was too hungry to bother heating it up in the microwave. I quietly continued to eat and read through my school paperwork, but I couldn't help but think what my life would be like if we were raised as witches.

It certainly wouldn't have been "normal," although, if we were raised that way, to us, it might've been. I imagined my mother waving a wand to do the dishes or laundry or ironing instead of doing them by hand. My dad might come home with a briefcase full of crazy magic artifacts instead of endless papers of real estate. I would conjure food out of thin air whenever I was hungry. Taylor would change the channel on the TV without using the remote. I couldn't decide if everything would be easy or lazy. Shaking the thought, I finished my plate, put the leftovers in the fridge, the dishes in the dishwasher, and went to go wash up.


End file.
